


Stealing Warmth

by literarypeachtea



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV), The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: F/M, Implied Sexual Content, Implied abuse, Self-Indulgent, Strong Language, Yes team flash makes an appearance, description of abuse, good god i'm the worst at titles, i guess it doesn't matter anyway!, literally no clue so have some self-indulgent fic with a thinly veiled self-insert, pretty much self-insert, this fandom is so huge no one will see this lmao, what's wrong with me? why am i so infatuated with leonard snart?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-23
Updated: 2020-08-30
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:40:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25455574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/literarypeachtea/pseuds/literarypeachtea
Summary: One of Lisa’s former coworkers reaches out to Leonard Snart with a proposition. He accepts.Takes place between Leonard being broken out of Iron Heights and when he leaves on the Waverider.
Relationships: Leonard Snart/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 10





	1. The job

Leonard Snart planned for everything, down to the second.  
But he didn’t — couldn’t — plan for her.  
He saw her the first time at Saints and Sinners, the seedy dive bar Mick loved to frequent so much, though Snart had his suspicions it was less about the ambiance and more about the low-cut shirts the bartender wore. Whatever. The beer was cheap and no one asked questions.  
He noticed her the first time because she was in his usual spot at the bar. Clearly not a regular, her head was on a swivel as she sipped at some sort of mixed drink, pausing every so often to scribble in the notebook in front of her.  
Leonard simply got his beer before settling into the second best spot in the room —a booth from which all exits were visible, no one behind him. He could get out of the bar in 20 seconds — 12 at a brisk walk.  
Perhaps not coincidentally, it also gave him a clear view of the woman, her face reflected in the mirror hanging behind the bar. He couldn’t make out what she was writing — or perhaps drawing? — from where he was. He didn’t have to wonder for long, though. He’d only been carrying out his surreptitious surveillance for about 10 minutes, on and off, before she knocked back the remainder of her drink, set a $20 bill on the counter, and left the dive.  
Snart noted that due to her shorter stature, it took her 25 seconds to reach the door at a relaxed pace.  
As the bartender began to clean the glass, Leonard made his way to the previously occupied spot.  
“Another beer, Marcy,” he drawled, examining the scarred wood. A ragged piece of paper peeked out from underneath the bill, and he deftly grabbed it while Marcy turned to the cooler. It was heavier than a receipt, creamy and textured. He pocketed it as she popped the cap off the beer.  
“Thanks,” the man murmured, offering a crooked smile before retreating back to his booth.  
Leonard withdrew the scrap from his pocket, chuckling as he nursed his second beer.  
It was a sketch of him from the shoulders up, chin in hand.

It was a while before the woman returned to the bar. She had taken his spot — again. Not that he blamed her. It was his first choice for a reason.  
He spotted her upon walking in, and took a seat beside her at the otherwise empty bar.  
“So, you’re a regular DaVinci, hm?”  
She leaned back in her seat, pushing the hair out of her eyes. “I like to think I’m more like Artemisia Gentileschi.”  
Leonard laughed, not unkindly.  
“Should I fear for my head, then?”  
The woman merely flashed him a smile before taking a sip of her drink.  
He flagged down the bartender — Marcy wasn’t working tonight, to Mick’s dismay — ordering a beer and buying the artist another drink.  
“Care to explain why you’re here?” he asked her, icy eyes narrowing slightly as he took in her appearance. Most people who weren’t regulars were junkies meeting their dealers, but the state of her teeth and lack of track marks on her bare arms ruled that out. And she didn’t look rough enough to be a biker.  
Again, she pushed her hair out of her face and Snart thought he saw the fading yellow-green tinge of a healing bruise along her cheekbone.  
“Can’t a girl get drunk and draw in a strange bar?” she huffed, mock indignant.  
“You’re dressed far too nice to be out here. Someone might get the wrong idea,” he began and rested his arm on the back of her seat, “especially if you draw their portrait.”  
“Not if they want to escape with their head intact.”  
Leonard hid his smile by taking a sip of his beer.  
“But you’re right. I’m not from around here, and maybe I’m looking for someone with...certain talents.”  
The man jerked his head to the left. “The go-go dancers are across the street.”  
The woman rolled her eyes. “I need help taking something back.”  
“You need a thief.”  
She winced at the word before meeting his gaze.  
“I wouldn’t call it stealing if I’m taking back something rightfully mine,” she explained. “I can pay you.”  
“Do I look like I’m for hire, sweetheart?” Leonard scowled.  
She sighed, shifting in her seat. “Lisa told me you might be like this.”  
His eyebrows shot up.  
“How do you know my baby sister?”  
“We worked together for a bit, when she was at that bullshit art gallery on Fifth and Madison.”  
Leonard nodded. He remembered the place: an industrial building filled with finger paintings that rich people paid too much for. Then it clicked.  
“So you’re Maggie, the one she always talked about,” he murmured.  
“Lisa was a real lifesaver for me when I tried to split from my husband that first time,” Maggie began, pulling up her sleeve to show a shiny pink scar across her upper arm — she’d been grazed by a bullet, Snart surmised, less than a year ago. “She let me stay with her after he almost shot me, helped me get back on my feet while giving me a safe place to be.”  
Leonard clenched his teeth, remembering the stories he’d heard about her ex. He was a piece of work, from what Lisa had said. Would have given their father a run for his money.  
“After I stopped by here the first time and saw you, I wasn’t sure I wanted to go this route. So I tried to go by myself to get...well, it’s a necklace. I tried to get the necklace from him myself; he told me he’d give it back but when I got there...” she trailed off, lost in thought. He thought he saw her shaking.  
“I’m guessing he didn’t want to give it back,” he said. “You don’t have to tell me what happened. Just focus on breathing. You’re safe.”  
Maggie shuddered, her breathing slowing, her eyes no longer glassy as she turned to fix him with a penetrating stare.  
“I need my necklace back. Please,” she said quietly. “He’s taken so much else from me. You don’t even know.”  
He reached out to touch the back of her hand.  
“You’re going to get it back,” he said. 

“You’re going soft!” Mick roared at Leonard at their base of operations.. “I can’t believe you’re just...helping her! You don’t even know the broad.”  
Snart crossed his arms across his chest, leaning back against the desk.  
“I didn’t ask you to go in on the job, Mick,” he said, examining the elbow patch on his sweater. “And I’m not going soft. I just can’t stand men who beat up women.”  
Mick flicked his lighter open and closed, grumbling.  
“Lisa vouched for her,” Leonard added. “And she could be...useful down the line. She still works at that art gallery. Having someone owe me a favor is never a bad thing.”  
“Fine!” Mick snapped, turning to storm away. “But don’t expect me to bail you out if you get caught!”  
“I wouldn’t dream of it.”  
As Leonard turned back to tinkering with his cold gun, his thoughts wandered to the woman. He did know what had been taken from her, actually. He’d heard all about it from Lisa when he’d gotten back from Iron Heights. He’d never seen his sister so mad as when she was telling him about her coworker’s scumbag ex-husband.  
Almost shooting her and taking a precious keepsake was simply the tip of the iceberg. Maggie’s ex had also apparently been extremely controlling — accusing her of cheating when she came home late from working overtime, not allowing her to leave the house unless he approved of her outfit, locking her out of their joint bank account.  
And that didn’t even begin to cover the other abuse that had been inflicted upon her, as evidenced by the healing bruise and the panic that had swept her face at the memory of the last time she’d seen her ex.  
Leonard picked up the gun, aiming it and freezing an oil container that was sitting on a shelf across the room.  
He was going to enjoy this job. 

They met at Saints and Sinners that week — he’d spent a few days keeping an eye on her ex’s comings and goings, and she brought sketches of the building they used to live in together.  
Leonard had wanted to formulate a plan, and getting to see Maggie was an added bonus.  
After she’d finished explaining the quirks of the 1920s apartment building — which stairs to avoid, the entrance in the basement that was used to smuggle liquor during the prohibition, whose dogs yapped at passers by — he decided to press her for details about her situation.  
Snart couldn’t risk her having a change of heart and warning her ex. Despite the empathy he felt for Maggie, he knew he couldn’t let it cloud his judgement. Like he told Barry Allen in the same bar, he had to look out for himself first.  
“So, have you talked to Dave since you tried to get the necklace back last?” he asked as he slid back into the booth, handing her a vodka lemonade.  
“You’d be able to tell if I did,” Maggie said, a sarcastic smile on her lips. “So, no. I haven’t.”  
The bruise was nearly gone, and she’d come into the bar with her long dark hair pulled back into a loose braid, no longer trying to hide her face.  
“Does he know where you live now?”  
She shook her head. “I’ve dropped out of contact with his friends and, well, he made sure I was cut off from my friends and family a long time ago.”  
Leonard simply watched her fidget with some sketchbook paper until it gave her a paper cut, causing her to hiss softly.  
“Why?” she asked around the injured digit she’d popped in her mouth, trying to stop the bleeding.  
“If I’m being honest, I just want to make sure you’re not going to change your mind and tell Dave I’m going to be…dropping by,” he drawled. But he wasn’t being completely honest: Part of Leonard also wanted to make sure she wouldn’t face repercussions from her ex. Maybe Mick was right — maybe he was going soft.  
Then again, he told himself, eyeing the woman in the booth beside him, he wasn’t blind. Maggie seemed about the same age as his sister, and she wasn't bad looking. She’d apparently taken a cue from him today in the outfit department, wearing a loose, dark cardigan over a fitted black t-shirt, pairing it with tight black jeans tucked into her Doc Martens.  
“No fucking way,” she said quietly, her eyes darkening. “I just want my necklace back.”  
“All right,” he replied, pulling a map of the building toward him and withdrawing a pen from his jacket. “Let’s talk payment.”  
Maggie nodded. “Name your price.”  
Leonard pushed the piece of paper back to her, and her eyes widened. “I…I don’t think I have that much.”  
“Well, that’s a pity. My services don’t come cheap,” he explained. “Perhaps we can arrange something else.”  
“Sure, anything.” The woman seemed desperate, and he felt a twinge of guilt that he quickly suppressed.  
“Have dinner with me.”  
She nearly spit her drink on him. “Seriously?”  
“Seriously.”  
“Fuckin’… fine,” she said. “But not here.”  
The thief placed his hand over his heart, feigning injury. “Sweetheart, you wound me. Just wear something nice and meet me here next week, same time.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As my friend said: “I’m sorry but it is my right as your friend. YOUR BEST MOTHERFUCKIN FRIEND. To stop you from stanning a man who’s name is snart”  
> Kayla, you can’t fucking stop me, I’ve written nearly 8,000 words stanning this man. (And still have no clue if I've written him in character...)  
> Apparently I have a thing for emotionally unavailable older men.  
> Wanna talk? You can find me on tumblr under this username.


	2. The payment

For once, he was in his normal spot, drumming his fingers on the scarred wood bar top.  
Despite his cold reputation, Leonard Snart felt strangely nervous. He inhaled deeply, appraising his reflection in the bar’s mirror and adjusting his shirt collar for the umpteenth time.  
That was the nice part about his buzz cut, he mused — it required very little maintenance, and he didn’t have to futz around with cowlicks. Nonetheless, he swept his hand over his hair, noting that more gray had seemed to creep into it since last time he looked.  
God, he was getting old.  
The man fidgeted with his watch, mentally calculating the latest they could leave and still make the reservation. Maggie had three minutes.  
Then the door to the bar opened.  
Leonard observed her from under his lashes, trying to appear as if he hadn’t noticed her. But everyone else in the bar had noticed her for sure.  
Between the loose waves in her hair, the bold red lip and the gray half-length dress coat wrapped around her, she looked like she’d stepped out of a 1940s movie premiere, all old Hollywood glam.  
The woman squinted, searching the room. He took that as his cue, standing from the bar and making his way over to her. Leonard offered his arm to her.  
“Shall we?”  
“I didn’t recognize you without the parka,” Maggie explained, gingerly looping her arm around his as they walked around the corner to a car parked in the alley beside the bar.  
“Well, I couldn’t very well tell you to wear something nice and not fit the bill myself,” he replied, helping her in.  
As Maggie fastened her seatbelt, she gave the man a sideways glance.  
“What? I may be a criminal, but I have manners. Besides, Lisa seems to think…highly of you.”  
“Well, I think highly of Lisa. She’s a good woman,” his companion replied, making Leonard snort. “What?”  
“My baby sister has been called many things, but I rarely hear her called ‘good,’” he said, turning onto the street. They drove in silence for a while, Leonard watching the woman as she stared out the window. The graffiti gradually disappeared, replaced by murals, and vacant lots became what city aldermen called “green spaces” as the car made its way toward the slightly nicer river district.  
“So, do you request dinner dates with all your clients and then make them sit with you in silence?” she asked, half-joking.  
He avoided her eyes under the pretense of having to change lanes. “Only the pretty ones.”  
“Do you take many clients?”  
“Not unless there’s something in it for me.”  
“And what‘s in this for you?”  
He swung into a spot in front of a small restaurant that was flanked by a tailor and an antique bookstore. “We’re here,” he announced coolly before stepping out of the car and opening the passenger door for her. Maggie ignored the hand offered to her, wrapping her coat around her tighter as she stepped onto the sidewalk. He didn’t blame her, really, he thought as he held the heavy oak door to the restaurant open for her.  
The woman’s lips parted in surprise as she took in the restaurant she’d stepped into. Leonard couldn’t keep the smirk off his face. The place had been around since the ‘20s, and judging by the decor, it hadn’t been updated since then, either. But it was a nice place, even if it had fallen into relative obscurity in the last decade or so as people moved away from the supper club atmosphere.  
She fit right in.  
A young man approached the pair, his face breaking into a smile as he saw Leonard. “Hey, long time no see.”  
“That tends to happen when you’re in prison,” the thief replied dryly. “I’ve got a reservation for 7:15.”  
The host laughed nervously. “Right this way,” he said, leading them through a velvet curtain into the dining area.  
As Snart had expected, the dining room was largely empty, and the few tables that were occupied were nowhere near each other.  
“May I take your coats?” the host asked after stopping at a corner booth, setting two menus on the white tablecloth. Maggie nodded, and Leonard felt her jump slightly when his hands touched her shoulders, helping her out of the coat.  
“Oh, uh, thank you,” she mumbled, awkwardly sitting on the edge of the booth and watching the host walk away with their coats. Then, momentary panic flitted across her face.  
“Um, Leonard? My pocketbook with my phone and everything…” she trailed off as he produced the small black patent leather case that matched the heels she’d worn.  
“Thief, remember? And a damn good one.” He handed the pocketbook to her, before settling into his seat and picking up the drink menu.  
She examined it suspiciously, as if trying to figure out if he’d hacked into her phone in the five seconds he’d had it.  
“Can I see the drink menu?”  
“I’m still looking at it.”  
“Oh.” She seemed to shrink in on herself, like a puppy swatted with a newspaper. Leonard cursed inwardly. Right, the typical arrogant Cold wasn’t going to help in this situation.  
“We can look at it together,” he suggested, feeling like an idiot. “Here.”  
He scooted to the middle of the booth, angling the menu toward her. Haltingly, she moved closer, keeping her distance. Whatever she used to style her hair smelled citrusy and light, Leonard noted, as she squinted at the thick piece of paper. He sighed. “I don’t bite, you know. Much.”  
A giggle escaped the woman’s lips and he relaxed slightly. He hadn’t fucked it up completely. Though the night was still young.  
Maggie slid next to him, her knee bumping against his briefly.  
“So, what do you generally get here?” she asked. “They seem to be pretty familiar with you.”  
“Ah, yeah, I’ve worked with them quite a bit. Lousy money laundering operation, but the food and alcohol is great here.”  
She shot him a look. “Okay…”  
“You can’t really go wrong with anything here, but I think I know what you’d like,” he continued, flagging down a pretty blonde passing by. “Jackie, can we get a gin and tonic, and a greyhound?”  
“Sure thing, Len,” Jackie gave him a wide smile. “Ya date drinking anything?”  
“Still have that sparkling wit, I see,” he shot back flatly. “Tell Goose I’ll wring his neck if he tries to skimp on the alcohol.”  
The waitress laughed, walking toward the bar as Leonard relaxed back into his seat, his arm stretched around the back of the high leather booth.  
Maggie shifted in her seat, pulling uncomfortably at the hem of the emerald green dress she was wearing. When he’d helped her out of her coat, he had to remind himself not to stare. The Bardot-style neckline of the dress exposed her collarbones and the tops of her shoulders, and Leonard noted how the sheath dress highlighted her hourglass figure.  
Jackie returned with their drinks, promising to come back shortly.  
Maggie studied the menu for a few moments before setting it down, sighing.  
“You never answered me,” she said.  
He raised an eyebrow. “About what’s in it for me? Why does it matter? I took the gig, you’re getting Grandma’s pearls back.”  
She nodded, sipping her drink.  
“But I can’t pay you what you asked, and instead I’m having dinner with you. Who’s paying for this, by the way? Am I covering it?”  
“Nah, Sal owes me quite a few favors, so this one’s on me,” Leonard laughed. “And…well, Lisa told you our dad was awful, I’m sure. She’s told me enough about your situation that I guess I wanted to do something.”  
He rested his head on the back of the booth, staring up at the ceiling. Heart-to-hearts weren’t his thing, but neither were jobs like this.  
“I hate men — people — who decide they need to beat on someone who isn’t as strong as them. Especially women and kids. What Dave did to you reminded me too much of what my dad did to us. Fuck. Listen to me. They’re right, I am going soft,” he said bitterly. “And I figured the only way to get you to have dinner with me was if it was the only option for payment.”  
A hurt look crossed her face. “You know that’s a shitty thing to do, right?”  
Leonard ran a hand over his hair, sighing. “If you’d said no, I would have taken the job anyway. Would have just figured out some other payment. So if you want to leave now, you’re free. I get it.”  
Maggie sat quietly, chewing on her cuticle. Eventually, she set her hand gently on his arm.  
“Leonard, you should have just asked,” she said quietly, before lifting her hand from his arm. She moved closer to him, the outside of her thigh pressed against his as she perused the menu. Her warmth was reassuring, he thought as he took a gulp of his gin and tonic. He might not mind having that around.

Leonard found himself smiling more than he had in a long time that night. It hadn’t been part of the plan, but there he was, trailing behind her as they climbed the stairs to her apartment.  
Maggie was a little bit drunk, insisting on paying for something that evening, even going so far as to try to slip cash into his pocket. To avoid another incident of her trying to stick her hands in his pockets, Leonard agreed that she could buy dessert.  
Unfortunately, the owner of the ice cream parlor they stopped at didn’t appreciate her loud monologue about classical art that depicted the beheading of Holofernes and the feminist underpinnings of the gory depiction.  
So he ended up in her living room, sipping a mint chip milkshake.  
The room was sparsely decorated — there wasn’t much besides a sofa and a record player beside a milk crate that held the few albums she’d been able to take with her. She shrugged off her coat in the small entrance area, telling him to pick an album and put it on.  
There were worse ways to spend an evening, Leonard thought, watching the needle drop on the record.  
As the melancholy tones of Billie Holiday floated across the room, he perused her music collection more and pretended to not see her kick off her heels and hike up her dress to shed a pair of thigh-high stockings.  
Engrossed in liner notes, he hadn’t noticed that she’d disappeared until he heard something clatter in the kitchen, and he poked his head in.  
Maggie had knocked over her spice rank while apparently reaching for a bottle of bourbon she’d kept in a top cabinet.  
“I think you’ve had enough alcohol for tonight, sweetheart,” he said, trying to coax her down from the chair she was standing on. She pouted like a stubborn child, forcing him to hide a grin as he helped her hop down.  
With his arm around her waist, he guided her back to the couch, and the idea of more alcohol was forgotten upon remembering her ice cream. He sat sprawled on the sofa, enjoying the moment: the chill of the milkshake; the crackling and warmth of the record; and the solid, gentle pressure of the woman curled up against him, her feet tucked up under her as she chatted and ate.  
After a while, the record stopped and Leonard found himself hesitant to get up to change it. Maggie had fallen asleep curled against him.  
But he couldn’t spend the whole night on the couch — his back had already begun to ache from sitting slouched over as he was.  
“Maggie, you have to go to bed,” he said quietly, smoothing her hair back from her face. She merely nuzzled her face further into the gray button down he was wearing. He really hoped her lipstick wasn’t rubbing off on it. That would be a bitch to get out.  
Leonard sighed.  
“Maggie,” he started, speaking louder as he pushed her away from him to sit up. “Come on.”  
She mumbled something as he helped her stand, supporting her as he walked her to her room. Once there, the woman flopped onto her bed, sprawling out across it. Shaking his head, Leonard pulled a blanket over her before he left, making sure the door was locked behind him. 

Lisa eyed her brother suspiciously over her coffee the next morning, watching him pour a cup for himself and fix a bowl of cereal.  
“So you just...put her to bed and left?” she asked.  
“Well, yes. I’m not a monster.”  
She raised an eyebrow at him.  
“Then what was with all the lipstick on your shirt?”  
“She passed out on me because I might have threatened Goose at the Rinaldi’s. In my defense, the weaselly fucker likes to load the cocktail straws with alcohol but not actually put any in your drink.”  
His sister burst out laughing at that, nearly spewing her coffee across the table.  
Leonard glared at her over the top of his own mug. “Yeah, yeah, laugh it up, trainwreck. I’m not the one who slept with him.”  
Lisa ignored the last barb. “So, you get Mags’ pearls back yet?”  
He shook his head, chewing on a mouthful of cereal.  
“Thursday, when Dave goes to his court-mandated anger management classes and the lady down the hall gives her yappy dog a toy full of peanut butter.”  
“Mm, and what about the nosy super?” She took a bite of toast.  
“Oh, he’ll be otherwise occupied. Wheel of Fortune requires his full attention.”  
“Getting in?”  
“Maggie still has a key, and Dave didn’t care enough to change the locks.”  
“What about once you give it back to her?”  
Leonard was silent for a while, deep in thought.  
“I don’t know. Yet,” he added hastily. “Lisa, she’s really something.”  
“Yeah, no shit, Len. She’s a good woman,” Lisa replied, standing up from the table and walking toward the door. “Don’t ruin her,” she called over her shoulder as she left, heading out to whatever day job she was planning to steal from next.  
Leonard leaned back in the kitchen chair, gulping down the last of his coffee as he checked his phone.  
Nothing from Maggie. Not that he’d expected a text, but it’d be nice to know she didn’t choke on her own vomit.  
He closed his eyes, his mind drifting from last night to the way her dress had clung to her, how her red lips had looked so inviting.  
Leonard shook his head, standing up from the table to head out to his and Mick’s base of operations. 

“Maggie, just making sure you didn’t choke on vomit in your sleep and die. - L”  
“Yes, this is actually her ghost. She slipped in the shower after getting up with a debilitating hangover.”  
“Haha. Very funny.”  
“I’m fucking hilarious and you know it. But thanks for checking in on me :) last night was fun.”  
“No problem. Had to make sure I could still meet with you at S&S on Friday evening.”  
“Works for me. See you then.”  
He slid his phone into his pocket, smiling to himself.  
“What’s got you in such a good mood?” Mick asked gruffly. “Get laid on your date last night?”  
Leonard rolled his eyes. “Even if I did, why do you think you’d be privy to that information?”  
The man grunted, going back to tinkering with the fuel cell on his Heat Gun.  
Leonard had to admit, though, it wasn’t a bad thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More of the fic no one wanted or asked for lmao. Whatever.


	3. The aftermath

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter does have description of violence and discussion of abuse, so please be aware of that.

The job had gone off without a hitch, and Leonard had to say he was pretty pleased with himself.  
No barking dogs, no nosy supers and no ex-husbands with anger management issues.  
He wasn’t out of the woods quite yet, he thought as he kept the necklace box pressed against his side while he waited for Maggie.  
She said she’d be there. He sipped at the beer in front of him and scanned the room for her.  
Fifteen minutes passed, then a half hour. Despite himself, he felt a cold dread settle into his chest.  
From what Maggie told him before, the safe her ex kept their valuables in wasn’t checked often. Mostly, she’d said, it was raided near the end of the month when Dave was trying to find things they could pawn to make rent. When they were together, she’d lost count of the times he’d pawned her necklace or her wedding ring. Maggie had developed a standing deal with the owner of the shop: He’d call her when Dave came in, drunk off his ass after blowing his paycheck on beer, to pawn her necklace. And every time she’d buy it back at a marked-up price, usually depleting the small supply of money she managed to squirrel away.  
It was the middle of the month, so Dave wouldn’t have checked the safe, would he?  
Leonard glanced at his watch, picking at the meal he’d since ordered. The burger was soggy and the fries had gone cold. An hour had passed since she was supposed to meet him. Where was she?  
His thoughts were interrupted by a commotion near the front door. Leonard narrowed his eyes as he realized what was happening — Dave had a viselike grip on Maggie’s upper arm, and was pulling the brunette through the entrance.  
Leonard slid to the edge of his seat, ready to run for it.  
“You bitch, you’re going to show me who has it,” Dave snapped at her. “Fuckin’ think you can steal from me?”  
Maggie just stood mutely behind him. Her ex flung her forward, and she stumbled into a table, her eyes locking with the thief’s for a moment before focusing back on the ground.  
She was telling him to run.  
The dread that had settled in Leonard’s chest flared into anger. He stood, sliding the steak knife from his meal into his sleeve and approaching the pair. He hadn’t brought his cold gun — hadn’t anticipated needing it.  
“Is there an issue here?” Leonard asked, arms crossed.  
“Mind your own businesses. We don’t need no heroes,” Dave snarled, grabbing Maggie’s arm and yanking her back to his side. “Which one of you helped this slut steal from me?” the man bellowed, but the bar largely ignored him. The bartender didn’t even look up from the glass she was cleaning.  
Snart seemed to be the only one paying attention to the situation, which suited him just fine. Dave shook the woman, looking over her head around the room.  
“Which one is it?” he spat at her. Maggie kept her eyes on the ground. “Who has my fucking necklace?”  
The thief examined his nails, easing himself closer to the action.  
“I don’t think it’s stealing if it was never yours,” he drawled. “So leave the lady alone and do us all a favor and get out of here.”  
The man wheeled around to face Leonard, his face contorted into a snarl. “I told you, we don’t need no heroes.”  
“Never said I was a hero, Dave,” Leonard replied. He aimed a jab at the other man’s solar plexus, pulling him into a headlock when Dave doubled over. Snart pressed the blade of the steak knife to the man’s throat. Shocked, or maybe too drunk to comprehend what was happening, Dave stayed still as the steel hovered over his carotid artery.  
“I took the fucking necklace because it doesn’t belong to you,” he hissed in the man’s ear. “Don’t go near Maggie again.”  
The other gulped, his Adam’s apple brushing against the blade. Leonard tightened his grip on Dave.  
“Do you understand?”  
“Y-yes, I won’t go near her again,” he stammered out. The thief released him, pushing him forward and causing Dave to stumble toward the door.  
“Get out of here.” Dave nodded, rubbing his throat as he darted out the door, glancing over his shoulder as if to ensure Snart wasn’t following him.  
As soon as her ex-husband had left the bar, Maggie closed the space between herself and Leonard. She immediately wrapped her arms around him, her frame shaking as she sobbed into his chest. He held her awkwardly, gently running his hands through her hair for a few moments before extricating himself from her grasp. Something didn’t feel right — he pushed some hair away from her forehead to expose a large gash. Her dark hair and the dim light must have made it hard to see the injury when she came in, but his train of thought was interrupted when she buckled against him. He caught her before she hit the floor, cursing.  
“You’re going to be ok, Mags,” he told her.

To say that Team Flash was surprised when Captain Cold showed up at S.T.A.R. Labs’ loading dock with a bloodied woman in his arms would be an understatement.  
“Dude, you can’t bring dead bodies here!” Cisco Ramon yelped through the intercom.  
“She’s not dead but she will be if I don’t get your help,” Leonard snarled up at the security camera. He heard a scuffle on the open line and some incoherent arguing. The pale form shifted weakly, her eyes fluttering as she drifted in and out of consciousness.  
“Stay with me, Maggie. Come on,” he said softly, before addressing the camera again.  
“Please, help me,” he called out in desperation. “Or just... help her.”  
Yellow lightning streaked from the cargo bay doors and pulled the woman away from Leonard.  
The door raised fully, revealing Cisco and Harrison Wells — well, someone who looked a hell of a lot like Harrison Wells, but without the wheelchair — leveling a threatening-looking gun at the thief, who raised his hands in response.  
“Promise I’m not here to steal anything. I don’t even have my gun,” he called out, before remembering the knife that was still tucked in his sleeve and letting that clatter to the pavement.  
Cisco whispered something to the Wells lookalike, who motioned with the large gun for Leonard to come inside.  
With the rifle pressed to the small of his back, Cisco and Wells 2.0 marched him through the main hub of the lab into the sick bay where Dr. Caitlin Snow was examining Maggie.  
“Allen,” Leonard nodded weakly at the young man, who stood with his arms crossed. He must not have been concerned about the stranger in the sickbay finding out who he was, since the hood of his uniform was pulled back, showing his furrowed brow.  
“What is this, Snart? What did you do to her?”  
“I didn’t do anything,” he snapped. “Her ex... he did this to her.” Leonard rubbed his face, his shoulders sagging with exhaustion as the adrenaline left his system.  
“Leonard, when did she pass out?” Caitlin asked him, checking light reflexes on the woman’s pupils. “And were you there when this happened?”  
He shook his head. “She passed out about 10 minutes ago and has been awake on and off since then. And believe me, we’d have a different problem if I was there when he hurt her.”  
Barry and Cisco exchanged looks. This level of concern was reserved for Snart’s sister.  
“Hey, Cold, let’s go sit in the Cortex, so Cait has room to do her thing, OK,” Cisco said, starting to usher the rogue away from the sickbay. Distressed, Leonard shook his head, protesting.  
“She’s in good hands. Come on, it’s ok,” the engineer soothed as the other man stared at the limp form in the bed. He exhaled, deflating.  
“Fine,” he said, letting himself be ushered out.  
Barry, slightly alarmed by the sedate Snart, couldn’t help but watch carefully as the thief collapsed into a chair, his face in his hands.  
“I should have known he would hurt her for it,” he said softly. Cisco perched on the desk next to him.  
“What did you do, Snart?”  
He withdrew the necklace from his coat and set it on the desk.  
“I stole this back for her,” he began. “Her name’s Maggie. She worked with Lisa for a while and, well, stayed with her after her ex nearly killed her.”  
Leonard leaned back in his seat, staring at the ceiling. “I didn’t think he’d try to kill her again.”  
“Her ex...kinda sounds like your dad,” Barry said, realization dawning. Leonard just nodded.  
He lost track of how long they sat in silence. Any other time being in the Flash’s lab would have been perfect — he would have used it as an opportunity to destroy the Flash, but since leaving prison and the whole thing at Christmas, Leonard had stopped seeing Barry Allen as just an adversary. Sure, he was an annoying Millennial, but Snart had started to think maybe being a criminal wasn’t the end-all, be-all.  
But, he thought, watching steam rise off the cup of tea Cisco had brought him, it was all he knew.  
Eventually, Caitlin stepped into the Cortex, pulling up a chair beside Snart.  
“So, the good news is she’s going to be ok. You —“ she hesitated for a moment, trying to read his face, “or whoever, will need to keep an eye on her for the next 24 hours. She has a pretty bad concussion but she should be ok..”  
Leonard unclenched his jaw. “Thank you, Snow.”  
She smiled gently at him. “She’ll need a follow-up examination in a bit, to ensure that there’s no additional damage that I can’t see because of the swelling. Do you want to see her?”  
He nodded stiffly.  
“She looks a little rough right now, and that gash might leave a scar, but I think she should be ok. She’s lucky you were there.”  
Leonard raised his eyebrow at her. “Not sure I’d call it luck.”

Leonard stretched, his body seeming to protest sitting for so long.  
He’d agreed to keep an eye on Maggie, and ended up taking her back to Lisa’s place — well, his too, he supposed.  
So here he was, folded into a kitchen chair he’d dragged into the room Maggie was in, waking her every so often.  
He must have dozed off eventually, because next thing he realized, Maggie was gently shaking his shoulder.  
“Len? Are you ok? You were talking in your sleep,” she explained, sitting on the edge of the bed.  
“Yeah,” he muttered, standing. “How’s the head?”  
The woman shrugged, pulling the blanket around her. “As good as I can after being hit in the head with an antique iron. I guess that wasn’t the best thing to use as a doorstop.”  
Leonard’s brow furrowed. “He found where you live?”  
She nodded, avoiding his eyes. “Dave told me he came to my work on my day off. The new guy very helpfully told him where to find me.”  
He swore quietly under his breath.  
“Damnit, Maggie, I didn’t want that to happen.”  
She smiled weakly. “I know.”  
The thief withdrew the necklace from his jacket, offering it to her. She clapped her hands over her mouth, and tears welled up in her eyes.  
“Thank you so much, Leonard,” she whispered, and he tried to ignore the fact that he was choking up as well. He stood, leaning over her to fasten the double strand of pearls around her neck, carefully moving her hair out of the way. Before he could sit back down, she wrapped her arms around his torso, again, her face buried in his chest. She really had to stop doing that, he thought, frozen in place.  
Unsure of what to do, he eventually sat down on the bed beside her, holding her as she cried and stroking her hair.  
“I really thought these were gone forever. Len, I was so scared. Thank you,” she said between hiccups, looking up at him as he started to pull away from her. “Can you please stay? Just sit with me a little longer?”  
Her big brown eyes looked up at him imploringly, and he sighed, kicking off his boots to sit in bed with her.  
“Scoot, Mags,” he said, mock seriously. She gave him enough room to stretch his legs before curling up against him, hugging his arm.  
“Leonard Snart, you’re a hero.”  
Despite his cold demeanor, the thief blushed at the comment and the kiss she planted on his cheek. 

Maggie insisted on visiting Team Flash when it came time to remove the sutures.  
Since he was technically on the lam after being broken out of Iron Heights, Leonard wasn’t sure if it was for his sake or her own that avoided hospitals and doctor’s offices. Having spent a decent amount of time in each as a kid after Louis drank too much, Leonard couldn’t really blame her.  
He spun idly in the office chair as Caitlin examined Maggie, ignoring the wide-eyed look Cisco was giving him over the top of a computer monitor.  
“You have a question you want to ask?” Leonard sneered, pausing to glare at the engineer.  
“I just...I didn’t know you had a heart.”  
“Ha, ha.”  
“Seriously, though, I thought you were all ice and crime,” Cisco pressed, leaning forward. “We didn’t think you cared about anyone but Lisa and yourself.”  
Leonard shrugged. “I must be going soft in my old age,” he replied dryly. “Call it a mid-life crisis.”  
Cisco looked like he was about to say something, but was cut off as Caitlin and Maggie came back into the room.  
“So keep that area clean, and call me if you have any issues,” Caitlin told the other woman, before looking at Leonard and smiling. “You did a good job taking care of her, Snart.”  
He nodded curtly. “Shall we, Maggie?”  
The brunette smiled, grabbing his arm. “Thanks, Caitlin.”  
Caitlin and Cisco watched incredulously as the pair left S.T.A.R. Labs, quietly chatting and laughing.  
“Are they...?” Cisco looked at Caitlin with alarm, who merely shrugged.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like this chapter kinda went off the rails but oh well. Also this is pretty much the extent I’ve got written and I’m not sure where to go from here so ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯


	4. Actual expense

It didn’t take long to move the few items Maggie had into the Snarts’ rented bungalow.  
After the debacle at her job, Maggie had also been forced to quit the art gallery — which wasn’t much of a tragedy, according to her — but definitely narrowed her options for housing.  
She was grateful to have a place to crash, Lisa was thrilled her friend was safe and, well, Leonard supposed he didn’t mind having her around. If it made Lisa happy, he couldn’t begrudge the arrangement too much.  
The thief had let her sleep in his room while he took the couch. He felt safer watching the front door from that spot, anyway, or so he told himself.  
Even once she’d recovered from her concussion, the protectiveness Leonard felt over her surprised and, frankly, rattled him. That was a feeling he had toward his baby sister — he had raised her and he looked out for her. Leonard didn’t have time to look out for anyone else, nor did he want to.  
Lisa hadn’t chosen a bad neighborhood, but it was a far cry from the friendly streets the Wests lived on. Most of the houses in the area had iron bars over the windows and the doors, some painted white and ornately decorated, but iron bars all the same.  
It wasn’t like he spent a whole lot of time there anyway.  
That old feeling was nagging at him again — the desire for the thrill of a heist, for something familiar. Most of his days were spent puttering around the warehouse he and Mick used as a base of operations.  
Leonard had expected Maggie to pretty much stop interacting with him after the job was done. But to his surprise, she didn’t. Not even close.  
If they were in a room together, she’d find a way to touch his arm, to be near him, to lean against him. More than once he’d woken up on the couch to find a blanket draped over him, or a still-warm mug of coffee on the side table beside him.  
It wasn’t that he didn’t like it; he just didn’t know how to deal with it.  
Relationships were loud, characterized by arguments and big emotions, right? That’s what he’d grown up seeing, and for a long time, that’s what he mimicked in his own relationships, both romantic and platonic. After a while, trying it out with different people, he resigned himself to the fact that no matter who he was with, this relationship thing wasn’t for him. Hookups with whoever he could find at a bar, sure. But he was baffled by Maggie’s gentleness, and he was worried he’d break it, snap it like a toothpick, if he tried to offer it back.  
And yet, Leonard found himself lingering at the doorway of his room, making up excuses to talk with her now that he had gotten her necklace back.  
One afternoon, he’d poked his head in to see pictures scattered across the bedspread, Maggie chewing on her cuticle as she went through them, scribbling in her notebook.  
He sat beside her, careful not to disturb the layout she had arranged and taking a closer look at the images. They mostly portrayed whole sculptures and low-relief portraits, but some were zoomed in on particular details, and he noticed some were flipped over, information about the artist and piece written on the back.  
“Planning a heist?” Leonard asked, folding his arms across his chest.  
Maggie glanced up at him, raising an eyebrow. “Not quite. Central City Museum is hosting a traveling Augustus Saint-Gaudens exhibit and since I’m...between jobs, I’m designing supplementary promotional material for them.”  
“Look at you,” he said, unable to hide the smile in his voice. “You keep that up, and they might just give you an office.”  
“They did give me a little workspace with a desk in the corner of their basement office. I’ve got a keycard to get in and everything,” she replied, pointing to a lanyard that was sitting on the nightstand.  
He made a vaguely impressed noise, picking up a photo of what looked like a gold coin and reading the information.  
“Looks like you’ve got a lot of source material to work off,” he said, flashing her a grin. She nodded, still engrossed in her notes, not seeming to notice that he took the photo of the coin with him as he made his way out of the room.  
He had some work to do, and Mick was waiting on him.

“So you’re saying this coin is worth half a mil?”  
Leonard nodded. “And it’s on its way to Central City.”  
Mick grunted, setting down the magazine he’d been flipping through.  
He hadn’t expected Snart to be so eager for another job so soon after he was sprung from Iron Heights. But they had a good in with that girl’s keycard, and a contact at the bullion exchange who was willing to keep his questions about the product’s origins to himself. Not to mention that the clerk there wouldn’t be conducting this business during typical hours, giving the two criminals ample opportunity to knock him out and clean out a few drawers in the exchange.  
“You really going to be able to pull this job?” Mick asked, earning a venomous stare.  
“Why wouldn’t I be?” Leonard snapped back, ignoring the gnawing feeling in the pit of his stomach. He was a criminal, damnit. The other man gave him a sidelong glance.  
“You, uh, just seem awfully fond of that chick with the necklace. Like,” Mick hesitated, appearing to choose his next words carefully — an oddity for him. “You talk about her like you talk about Lisa.”  
Leonard scowled.  
“I hadn’t realized you’d taken up psychoanalysis,” he replied, falling onto the leather couch. “Please, if I tell you about my dreams, will you tell me they’re because of my fear of vulnerability and that this heist is just an attempt at normalcy because I can’t handle the idea of having feelings?”  
The other man turned his back to his partner, going back to taking apart his heat gun. It was no use talking to Snart when he was like this.

Mornings Leonard spent in the house were marked by quiet conversations and cups of coffee at the kitchen table with her; evenings marked by muted hockey games and beers.  
They went on this way for a couple weeks. The exhibition opened without much trouble, and the museum offered Maggie a part-time position.  
That’s how he’d found her that night — curled up on the couch, cradling a bottle of some dark craft stout while the Central City Comets flew across the screen of the small television.  
Leonard settled in beside her. Of the sports in the city, hockey had always held the most appeal to him — he appreciated the precise nature of skating and a relatively well-defined time limit, to say nothing of the ice rink’s chill.  
“How’s Dezhnyov playing tonight?”  
“Blocked every shot on goal so far.”  
“Good. He owes me money. Can’t have him being kicked off the team.”  
Maggie laughed, then paused. “Wait, really?”  
The thief gave her a crooked smile, plucking the beer from her and taking a sip. She rolled her eyes, snatching the bottle back, before leaning against Leonard’s side and stretching her legs out on the couch.  
“Why’re you watching it muted, though?”  
The woman nodded toward the hallway leading to the bedrooms. “Lisa’s on a graveyard shift tonight. I don’t want to wake her.”  
Leonard wrapped his arm around her waist, feeling her jump slightly as his hand brushed a strip of exposed skin where her loose tank top was knotted at one side. Though this was a pretty normal routine for them, she still seemed uneasy at times.  
They sat in silence for a bit, before he reached for her hand, his fingers interlacing with hers. Eventually, she reached forward, setting the bottle on the coffee table. As Maggie settled back into her spot against him, she brought his hand to her lips, kissing the calloused skin on his knuckles.  
“What are we doing here?” she said quietly, perhaps more to herself than to him.  
Leonard pulled his hand away briefly.  
“I don’t want you to do anything you’re not comfortable with,” he murmured, stroking her hair. “Lisa told me about what Chris would make you do. I just want to be here with you.”  
Leonard played with her dark curls, staring into her eyes. She broke away from his gaze.  
“You don’t think...less of me? For not fighting or not... leaving him sooner?” Her voice cracked.  
“Of course not.”  
She pressed her forehead against his shoulder, and he turned her face to him, brushing his lips against hers, tentative and hesitant. She froze briefly before leaning into the kiss, clutching the back of his neck to pull him closer.  
Leonard pulled away from her, breaking the kiss to look at her seriously, icy eyes scrutinizing her.  
“You’re calling the shots here, sweetheart. I want that to be perfectly clear,” he said, pressing his forehead to hers.  
Maggie looked up at him, mischief gleaming in her eyes. “You’re going to regret that, Len,” she laughed, swinging a leg around to straddle his lap.  
He leaned back, regarding her from beneath his lashes.  
“Somehow I doubt that.”  
She simply smiled, grinding against him.  
“That’s not my cold gun, by the way.”  
“I would hope not. That would be hard to fuck.”  
Despite himself, Leonard felt a blush creep up his neck to his ears. He ran his tongue over his dry lips, before pressing his mouth to her collarbone. He gently sucked on a patch skin there, leaving a faint mark when he pulled away.  
Maggie sighed softly at the sharp pain.  
Leonard paused, looking to her for affirmation.  
“You’re fine,” she murmured, burying her face in his neck and pressing her lips against his carotid artery. Maggie could feel his heartbeat quicken as her hands slid beneath his t-shirt. The thief leaned back, shedding the garment.  
She pressed herself to him, reveling in the feel of his skin against her own — he was surprisingly warm to have the nickname “Captain Cold.”  
The pair froze in place as Lisa began her pre-work ritual of hair, makeup and metal music.  
“You know, I’m having flashbacks to high school,” Leonard murmured in Maggie’s ear, “and I think you deserve better than this couch.”  
With that, he slid her off his lap, backing her up against the wall. The man grabbed her face and kissed her deeply.  
Maggie returned the kiss before slipping out of his grasp and pulling him into the room she’d been staying in.  
Leonard smiled, swallowing the guilt that rose in his throat, and followed her. 

Since starting the part-time work, Maggie had begun to keep her keycard in the dish that held house keys and spare change, right in front of the door.  
It was easy enough to swipe — he knew her schedule and when she wouldn’t miss it.  
Leonard and Mick just had to get to the employee entrance near the shipping and receiving area of Central City Museum.  
Maggie’s keycard gave the thief easy access, and he made his way through the guts of the museum, the fluorescent-bathed hallways and upholstered cubicles that stood in stark contrast to the fresh, modern face it put on for its guests. For a second, Leonard found himself thinking Maggie deserved to work in a place better than this, a thought he pushed away as he stood in front of the traveling exhibit hall. People walked in and out of the area freely, some carrying cases or boxes to waiting flatbed dollies.  
The exhibit was being torn down, pieces packed and banners rolled up, to be whisked away to the next stop.  
Purposefully, Leonard strode into the hall, not earning a second glance from the young man taking apart scaffolding at the entrance. He wound his way along the exhibit, a few low-relief portraits and bust studies still sitting on pedestals here and there. Eventually, he found a wall that held medals and coinage the artist had created, including the twenty-dollar gold piece that was worth so much more.  
The thief exhaled, casually glancing around to ensure no one was watching him before carefully popping the glass case open, slipping the coin from its spot.  
Now, if his research was correct, opening the case had tripped an alarm, and he had about 30 seconds to get out of the exhibit hall before it was locked down, and then another 60 before the whole building was locked down. Leonard pivoted, jumping slightly at the sight of an arrow leveled at his head. He exhaled once he realized it was simply a life-sized casting of a woman with a bow — perhaps Diana, he thought as he slipped into the shadows, opening a door that led from the hall back into the underbelly of the museum, the cinder block walls feeling awfully familiar.  
He’d very nearly made it out the door when a security guard rounded the corner. The thief smiled at the man in the ill-fitting uniform, who jumped as a squawk came over the walkie-talkie holstered at his waist along with a taser.  
“We have a situation, Anderson,” the female voice began. “It’s a code red.”  
“Shit,” the guard muttered before turning to Snart. “Hey, uh, I know you were just about to, but you can’t leave.”  
Leonard feigned surprise. “What? Really? Is everything OK? I was just picking something up for my friend.”  
“It’s nothing you need to worry about, old man,” Anderson replied. “I just can’t let you leave without clearing you first.”  
Leonard nodded, pulling out Maggie’s keycard, handing it to the guard.  
“Maggie Kovacs, one of the graphic designers with PA, needed her external hard drive,” he said coolly. “She started running a fever this afternoon, but there was something about a new exhibit needing banners created, so I grabbed this so she could finish it at home.”  
He briefly pulled the rectangular black case that held the coin from his pocket. It should pass for a terabyte hard drive if the man didn’t look too close. The guard eyed him suspiciously, and Leonard held up his hands.  
“I told her to rest, but she insisted it needed to be done by tonight so it could go to the printer tomorrow.”  
The guard deliberated, squinting at Leonard before returning Maggie’s keycard.  
“Eh, fine, get out of here. Hope she feels better.”  
The thief gave the other man a toothy grin before stepping out the back door. “Thanks.”  
He hopped into the car where Mick was waiting, popping open the case with a hidden latch to show the coin.  
“Mick, let’s go.”

While the heist had gone off fairly well, the appearance of Time Master Rip Hunter certainly put a damper on things. Because of the little trip the Brit took them on to Star City, it was already morning by the time Leonard made it back to the house. He walked into the kitchen to find Lisa trying to comfort Maggie.  
“Keep pacing like that and you’ll wear a hole in the floor,” he told the woman, smiling humorlessly. He hadn’t planned on this confrontation.  
“Don’t try to make jokes, Leonard. Where the hell is my keycard, but more importantly, where the hell is that coin?” she spat at him. “Was this your plan all along? Use me to get access to whatever gallery I worked at? Or did you decide on that after you slept with me?”  
Lisa rubbed her temples. “Listen, I’m going to let you two sort this out. I need to get back to work; my break’s nearly over.”  
Leonard and Maggie watched her walk out the door, neither saying anything.  
“Was any of this genuine? Did you care at all for me?”  
The man exhaled. He’d hoped he could just drop off her keycard in the morning and then slip away for another six months before making another heist attempt, and that she wouldn’t put two and two together. What did the kids call it these days — ghosting? Certainly preferable to having to push her away in person. This attachment, this vulnerability, just wasn’t tenable.  
“Maggie, I’m a criminal and a liar. I hurt people,” he began, staring at her defiantly. “You should know that. I’ve told you that’s what I am from the start.”  
“We both know that’s bullshit,” she replied. “I think you’re trying to convince yourself you’re only that because it’s easier than letting someone in.”  
Leonard narrowed his eyes at the woman.  
“Don’t be angry at me for duping you,” he told her, tossing her keycard on the kitchen table before he walked out. “Be more careful who you trust in the future, Margaret.”  
As he drove to the hideout, he couldn’t stop replaying the conversation in his head.  
He’d looked out for himself, staying unattached and unbound by moral codes. Done what he’d always had to. But an empty feeling lingered in his chest, like he’d lost something.  
Leonard exhaled deeply, pushing the emotion aside. He couldn’t worry about that now — he had to convince Mick they should team up with those do-gooders.  
Time travel would give them an opportunity to seriously up their game.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I feel kind of bad, but like...we knew this couldn't last, right? Thanks to those who've read and commented and given feedback!  
> Also, there is actually a Saint-Gaudens twenty-dollar coin that is worth about $475,000, according to JM Bullion. It's also very pretty! But yeah, had to come up with some reason why they were pulling that job at the bullion exchange so...thought this kinda made sense. Also I got no clue how museum security works so...sorry if it's absolutely off.


End file.
